Hurt
by FreakyFrenzy12
Summary: England's hated by the world and he has no idea why, He just want's somebody to love him, he doesn't care who. Some Abusive characters toward England.


"Why are you here?" America glared down at the person in the chair who glared back.

"Because I am a nation to" England sat in his chair, ignoring the glares aimed to his direction. America growled and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the door he almost literally threw him out of the room.

England slammed against the wall, his head reeling. America punched him in the gut, seeming to enjoy the way England spit out blood and the cracking of some bones. England slid to the floor, struggling to breathe.

America didn't wait, he took his foot and slammed it hard on England's side. England could see a blurry image of the other nations laughing in amusement, the once greatest nation now laid on the floor as a punching bag.

America kicked a few more times, sure to rub his boot on the already bruising skin before he and the other nations walked into the meeting room and slammed the door shut.

England reached towards his fairy friends, they just laughed at him and flew away after scratching him a bit with their nails. England coughed, blood spraying everywhere. It took him a while to get up, he limped to his car, hoping that nobody took his keys.

Luck, apparently wasn't on his side because his keys were not anywhere to be seen. England limped to the back of the building, avoiding nations that were late. He slumped onto the bench that he had found a few years ago while hiding from America's beatings.

England gave a small smile to a tiny fairy that was watching him, it also hissed and flew away. His fairy friends hated him, England's smile disappeared.

He was truly alone, nobody liked him, nobody cared. His brothers left him, his colonies left him, his friends turned away, his enemies came forward and he had no defense toward them. England's army was disappearing, taking their families and leaving England, going somewhere where life could give them something.

England knew how his people felt, feeling pain every time one of them left, abandoning their homes and going somewhere better. England doesn't blame them, they deserve better is what he told himself over and over.

His biggest trade partner, Germany, cut off trade, as did America, he had to plead France not to end the trade. The only resources he was getting was from France and a few other nations, America cut off their special relationship, it felt like the revolutionary war all over again.

England stood, limping toward the only sanctuary he had, where no one bothered him, where he could be himself.

The orphanage.

England always made sure to donate money to the orphanage. No matter how many times his boss yelled at him for doing so.

It was called, "The Rose."

England had actually helped build the place, remembering the first kids there and how he watched them grow up. England was almost about to turn a corner when somebody grabbed him and yanked him into the alley way.

It was America.

America slammed him up against the wall and then threw him at the other wall, laughing when England again slid down to the floor. The kicking started again, England was a bloody mess and America was laughing.

"America come on! We are going to be late!"

America kicked hard one last time before walking away snickering.

England couldn't move, he could tell that some of his ribs had cracked, his ankle was twisted and his left arm was bent in an odd direction, his side bleeding more than it should, soaking through his uniform. England couldn't open one of his eye's, which probably means that it was bruised.

He just laid there, the hopeful half of him saying that someone was probably looking for him. England would have laughed at that if it didn't hurt, he knew that no one was looking for him, if any of the nations did find him they would probably just kick him some more or walk away.

They also wouldn't even see him, his body was mostly covered by the shadow of the building. England heard that nations couldn't die, but he was already broken so he wouldn't mind dying.

England closed his other eye and took a deep breathe. He lifted himself up shakily and using the wall for guidance, America, Canada, and Honk King's birthday were in about a week and he needed to finish their hand made gifts.

For America, he carved a bald eagle with a rose wrapping around it, the American flag in the background out of wood. The platform it stood on would spin in slow circle's and The Star Spangle banner would play.

For Canada, he used some magic to make a kind of fake snow that would never melt and put the Canadian flag with maple trees and a maple syrup bottle in a snow globe, there was an ice rink in the globe and a few people were playing hockey on the ice, Oh Canada played in the background.

For Hong Kong he made a little stand that when you pressed the side button, started shooting small, non flammable, fire works and fire crackers. The supply of fire works never ended in that thanks to magic and Yiyongjun Jinxingqu (March of the Volunteers) played in the background

England hoped that they wouldn't break these presents, last year when he sent gifts he got a package in the mail of the presents but it was smashed up and a letter of hate was taped to the bottom.

England poured his heart into these gifts, hoping that maybe they would at least keep them, he didn't care if they just put it in a corner where no one would see it, he just wanted them to keep it.

England took to the shadows and alley ways to get him home, having to go around back because his house keys were with his car keys, which he had no idea where they were. England walked through his lonely house, his footsteps echoing. The only sounds were England's footsteps and his heavy breathing that seemed to get faster with every step he took.

England made it all the way to his bathroom. Turning on the bath so he wouldn't haft to stand, the water poured onto him, he closed his non-bruised eye and thought of times when he wasn't hated, when he could actually smile and laugh with someone.

One who would listen.

He knew that it was just a hopeless wish but he just wanted someone to listen. Someone who would let him pour his heart out and cry without being judged. Who would smile at him like he was everything anyone could ask for. Who would laugh with him and not at him. Someone who would stand up for him.

He let out a breathy laugh, he knew it wouldn't come true. He was England. The heartless and cold England.

England stood and got out. Draining the bloody water and walking over to sit on the toilet seat. He glanced at his arm, telling himself that this was going to hurt he moved it back in place, ignoring the awful cracking noises it made.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he moved it back to where it was supposed to go and wrapped it in a green cast that he also kept in the bathroom. Next he did his ankle, head, and stomach , wrapping all of them up once he cleaned off the deep cut on his stomach that miraculously stopped bleeding.

He put band aids on the cuts which were on his fingers from the fairies and out an eye pad over his bruised eye he looked at himself in the mirror. England still looked like hell but it was better than when he first came home.

_Ding Dong_

England groaned at the loud noise but slowly limped down his stairs, careful not to put weight on his ankle.

He opened his door, wondering who would come to see him, he rarely got visitors, only his brothers or other nations looking for someone to beat up.

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**All right, there's one chapter, If I did it correctly there should be a poll on my page but I don't know if it worked cause it's my first time using the polls.**


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